


Ferals

by LiseranThistle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dystopia, Fluff, Horror, M/M, POV Nonhuman, Romance, Sad, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiseranThistle/pseuds/LiseranThistle
Summary: Peter Niveus is a homely looking Rabbit from a small bayou town named Blackwell, right on the edge of the Mississippi. It's quiet and unassuming for the most part, but Blackwell has a secret for those who aren't too careful with where they step. Deadmin, decaying creatures that shamble on two legs with an appetite for the living, swarm and migrate to the small rabbit town of Blackwell looking to sate their hunger on any poor Beast walking in their path.The tiny little town is protected thanks to the fortifications left up by the Deadmin of the past, who used to be alive before whatever plague caused this, took them over.It's bad news for the folk in Blackwell, though, when those fortifications end up in the river letting hordes swarm the surrounding forest and town. Now Peter, alongside his friends and family, must venture out to fight off these monsters, and find someone willing to help them.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter to see art of the characters of this story as it gets published:
> 
> @LiseThistle

There were few things that bothered Peter Niveus, but being woken up far too early was one constant predicament in his life. He lay in a sprawled out mess on the bed, completely submerged in the comforter, his white fur slightly matted in some places, and pajamas wrinkled with sleep. A loud banging interrupted his snoring, and as if it was possessed by something all on its own, his ear twitched in the direction of the door.   
  
"Peter!" A voice called. "Get up, it's past sunrise now, we gotta open up shop!" He groggily opened his eyes, and yawned wide, knowing his mother wouldn't have gone up the steps if he really _wasn't_ late.

"I'm comin',just hold on a minute." He said, sitting on the edge of the bed, still half asleep. He got up, headed to his closet to change out of his pajamas, and walked down the rickety wooden steps of his small rabbit home where the shop was. His mother, a homely looking rabbit lady with white fur that was graying with age near the eyes, zipped past him hurriedly to the foyer where tables and chairs were stationed for customers. A door with a weather beaten "We're Open!" sign was a few feet to the front of the diner, while the rest was cordoned off into the ginormous kitchen area.

"I've got 8 pots of coffee brewin' back there, so hurry up an' get to pourin'." She said, setting new clean cloths on the tables.

"Will do, Ma'am." Peter said, going to the back. While he poured, prepared, and set food on plates, his mother welcomed the first few customers into the diner. In a manner of minutes, the place was quietly humming with soft conversation from the usual patrons.

There was Dylan Meyer's, a pot bellied Warthog who worked the mines just on the outskirts of town, who read the morning paper while he drank his cup of coffee.

Further down the counter sat Allen Brigwell, an old Rabbit with spotted black fur that Peter found to be annoying, only because _he_ liked to spend his mornings flirting with his mother unabashedly. "These flapjacks are as delicious as ever, Migsby." Allen said, smiling at her while she wiped clean Dylan's used mug. "I don't think I could ever get enough of your sweet, sweet-"

"Thanks." Peter said, putting down the cup of coffee he had ordered with his flapjacks. "I made 'em. Fresh this morning, actually. They're my own recipe." He smirked, causing Allen's mood to sour a bit.

"Ah...well, they're great Pete." Allen sipped his cup of coffee, awkwardly looking away.

Dylan chuckled from across the counter, seemingly at the paper, but Peter knew he was laughing at Allen like always. More customer's slowly filed into the small little hub, his mother tending to all of them one by one. It was a busy morning in Migsby's Burrow, but the order's went in and out smoothly.

Peter leaned across the counter lazily, his head leaning on one of his paws. It was busier than usual that morning, and anyone looking could tell he was a little worn out by the droop of his long ears. Dylan had long since left for the mines, but Allen stuck around, choosing to make just polite conversation with him and his mother.

"Busy morning, huh?" He asked Peter.

  
"Yep." He chuckled. "Ma's food must really be worth gettin' up for."

"Or maybe it's because the Mayor's supposed to be calling a town meeting this morning. In a few hours at 10, I heard." Migsby pondered, wiping her hands dry of dishwater. "You know his speeches go on for days, and days...Gotta eat while you can."

"Mayor Blackwell's just a...talkative guy is all. Nothin' ever happens in this swamp town anyway, so he's gotta find somethin' to entertain us with every month." Peter told her. "Even if he is hosting a Meeting, I'm not goin'."

"Huh?" Allen asked. "Why not? You got somewhere else to be in this 'Swamp town' of ours?"

Peter nodded, "Yep. Zach's supposed to be arrivin' back home today."

This time Allen's face shifted into a slight, disgusted scowl as he sipped his coffee again. "Oh. That Fox boy who always hangs around here, huh?"

Peter held back an eyeroll, as this was one of the things he didn't like about Allen and found 'annoying', besides his advances on his mother. "Yeah him. Someone's gotta be there to welcome him home."

"Well aren't you just the picture o' perfect character, what a generous thing to do for a Fox." Allen smiled, though he didn't seem very happy with the thought.

"Foxes! Who needs 'em here anyways! Nothin' but thugs, they are!" Shouted an old, withered voice. Ulysses Tint spoke up, as he hobbled to the counter on his cane.He felt around for the seat, his dark fur fuzzy and unkempt in places.   
  


"Don't you start!" Migsby scolded the older rabbit, helping him take a seat. "There ain't nothin' wrong with foxes, least of all Zachariah. He's a respectable young man." She huffed.

Allen scoffed lightly, "I'm sure he is. Well, you have fun seeing home the fox boy. I have to get to the office now. The sheriff don't take kindly to late stragglers." He got up from his seat, plopping down a few tin coins as he left. Peter had a light look of annoyance on his face as he watched Allen leave.

Peter cleaned up around the counter a bit, tending to some of the other customers who sat at the tables. Sometime had passed, and it was almost 10.

He went to go and clean up after Ulysses, but Migsby put a hand on his arm. "Now, now I've got the rest. That should be all the customer's we'll get for the morning, before I close up and head into town for that supposed meetin' everyone is gossipin' about." She told him.

She pointed a thumb back at the clock hung on the wall up above their heads. "Zach's boat should be arrivin' any minute now, so you best hurry on to greet him." She told him, fixing her son's hair a bit.

"H-how do I look?" he asked her, standing back a bit.

She laughed softly, "Like the perfect picture o' character."

Peter laughed with her. "Alright thanks, Ma. I'll get going, and me and him will meet you in town." He turned to leave her, headed for the door.

Right before he laid a paw on the brass handle, it flung open dramatically, and Allen stood in the frame again looking harried and frayed about the eyes. Peter jumped back, startled, when Allen grabbed a hold of his arm forcefully. "Allen, what-"  
  
"They're here! Deadmin, 5 of 'em, right over the hill from the diner!" He spoke in a rushed tone of voice. A chill ran up Peter's spine, causing his fur to raise along his slight frame. The rest of the diner heard what Allen had said, and now there were many Rabbit and Beast folk panicking in the small Burrow. Tension rose slightly throughout the many customers in the Burrow, terrified whispers of the creatures soon to be upon them.   
  


"T-the windows! Board 'em up!" One man yelled, a sand furred Hare. "Close the door, dammit! Help me block it, would ya?"

Peter shook Allen off of him, going to help the other patrons barricade themselves in the Burrow. Migsby had left to go to the back where they kept a single weapon in stock in case of break ins, or worse situations like this one.

As Peter pushed a table to barricade the door, he couldn't help but think about how this too, was an unfortunate predicament in his life. Albeit, a rare one.


	2. 2

Boat rides were one of Zachariah Higgsley's least favorite modes of transportation, and it was evident from the sickly pale look on his face, as the boat rocked steadily onward down the Mississippi. There weren't many others on this boat in particular, as the captain was a cranky old Rabbit of a man who reviled Foxes to the most obvious degree, and his slim and annoying deck help, a chatty and overly enthusiastic brown Hare girl.

He sighed, leaning back onto the wooden bench bolted onto the ship's deck, his suitcase on the floor next to him. He found himself sliding a foot in front of it many times to stop it from tumbling across the deck. He rummaged around in the pocket of his dark green plaid jacket for his watch, only to find that it was a little close to 10 in the morning. He hadn't had a chance to eat breakfast and was hoping to eat something once he arrived in Blackwell.

Hannah, the (annoying) energetic Hare, sat on the edge of the boat's iron railing, seemingly unbothered by the rocking of the waves. She looked down at him, not for the first time during the trip, with another dopey grin on her face. "So you've gone to college?" She asked him. "What's it like there? I didn't think they'd let Foxes in, you know." she looked at him inquisitively.

Zach rolled his eyes, "It's alright. Pretty boring, nothing too spectacular." He told her. "And for the record, they let Foxes in lots of places. I got in the same way as everyone else."

Hannah nodded, seemingly convinced, but Zach had a feeling she didn't believe him. "Uh-huh, I see. So, what are you going for, anyway? Oh! Let me guess: Locksmithing!" She said, satisfied with her answer, nodding her head.

He looked affronted at her, completely lost. Hannah rolled her eyes this time as if it were obvious. "So you can pick locks better? To steal? Duh." She explained.

Zach sighed, tired from the conversation already, and the rocking of the boat. It wasn't the first time someone had said something so blatant in its ignorance to his face."Aside from being a Fox, what makes you think I look anything like a thief?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I knew rabbits were dumb, but you're on a whole other level."

Hannah glared at him, her eyes squinting. "I'm a Hare, you dumb fulp!" She spat angrily at him, huffing. Zach winced at the harsh slur. She crossed her arms, turning her head away, no longer friendly with him it seemed. "I don't get why all you Foxes are so rude to folks. Maybe if you were nicer, we could all get along."

"I get along with Rabbit's just fine." Zach told her.

"Ha!" Hannah laughed. "That's rich, you've been nothin' but mean this whole ride! I was just tryin' to make polite conversation so you wouldn't be bored during the trip."

"So you have enough foresight to suspect that I'm a thief who lockpicks, but not enough to guess if I don't like polite conversation?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Everyone likes polite conversation, though, don't they?" She said. "I bet you're not so mean to the Rabbit and Hare folk in Blackwell, what with you coming from there, apparently?"

Zach shrugged, "I...was raised there, practically my whole life. The Rabbits there are nicer than you, at least." He looked at her pointedly. "Our ideas of what 'polite conversation' is are totally different."

Along the edge of the endless expanse of tree and bayou that surrounded the Mississippi, Zach spotted the wooden dock for Blackwell Bayou. "Well looks like we won't be in each other's company soon. The dock's approaching."

Hannah looked surprised, her ears standing up tall suddenly. "Oh gee, I better get a move on. Captain will want me to help with getting this thing ready for port." She hopped off of the railing and headed into the small room up ahead of the ship, where the captain was sailing the boat.

Zach stood on the docked ship, ready to walk down the small wooden plank leading to the boardwalk below. He nodded at the captain, "Goodbye, thanks for the ride."

The old Hare, fur bushy and wild-looking all over his face, grunted. "Whatever, git off ma' ship, fulp." He turned away, and headed back for his quarters, Hannah stuck her tongue out at him childishly as she soon followed close behind.

Zach picked up his suitcase and walked down the plank. He looked about, wondering where the workers for the dock were. It's like a ghost town here.... He thought to himself, looking around slowly. Normally, Blackwell Harbor was bustling with many Rabbit and Hare folk, working to haul in fish from the river or to ferry people to other parts of the surrounding bayou. It was a small dock, not very large seeing as it was being worked by Rabbit and Hare beasts. There were all but three buildings, mainly huts from their ramshackle appearance, that were used to sell and store equipment to run the docks.

The smell of the river and fish was strong here at the docks, as it was the place catfish was brought in by the dozens each day for preparation.

It was quiet now. An unsettling air of calm blew over the shops and fishing boats docked and ready to sail. Maybe they all heard I was coming to town, and high tailed it out of here... He shook his head.

No, he'd never known any Rabbit or Hare to fear him, just show absolute disgust and disdain. He couldn't imagine the whole harbor deciding to hide from him of all beasts. He picked up his suitcase and decided to head further in.

Peter wrote to him in his letters that when he docked he'd meet him at the docks. Peter wasn't there, of course, nobody was. He wouldn't allow himself to think Peter would just abandon him here, without so much as a welcome home. Not Peter. He'd never do something like that to him.

So where is he...? Zach wondered as he walked past yet more empty shops. Soon he'd hit the trail that led to the town square. He stopped at the beginning of the dusty road, still confused as to why he didn't see anyone. It was starting to give him anxiety, his pointed ears flicked nervously every few seconds. I'll just...go into town. I'll meet Peter at the Burrow. He's probably just running late. I might even run into him on the trail into town... He mulled these thoughts over in his head until he heard a slight rustle of leaves from some of the bushes to his left.

He gripped his suitcase, his head immediately swiveling in the direction of the sound. It was then that he smelled it, the foul stench of something awful over the powerful smell of the river and fish. A Deadmin. They had a distinct scent that was different from beastfolk, but one etched with the smell of decay.

There was only one, but it seemed to be trying to shamble its way towards him. Its awkward ape-like arms stretched forward to snag at Zach, but it was too far away to even reach him. The skin was hairless, except the scant few strands stuck to its rotted head. It wore clothes that Zach recognized as a pinstripe suit, but it was ruined and torn to pieces.

Zach backed away slowly, and sprinted back into the small ghost town of a harbor, away from the Deadmin.

He tried to open one of the doors of the nearby shops, but it was locked. As he ran along the way, he soon learned to his horror, that all of them were. Most likely, the dock workers were hiding in them, having barricaded themselves from fear of the Deadmin freely stalking the grounds. If he listened closely ignoring his mounting panic, he could hear quiet, terrified whispers from some of them inside.

The Deadmin he'd left tangled in the bushes freed itself momentarily with a jerk of its rotted foot, the pant leg of its old pinstripe suit having got caught on some of the branches. Zach was still a little ways away from it, but he had to hurry and find a place to hide, or else he'd be cornered against the river by the creature.

He looked to his left and right, quickly. His only real option was to book it through the woods but...if there's one here, there's no telling what kinds there are hiding in there. The Deadmin approached slowly, shambling forward. The stench of rotting flesh grew stronger with each step it took, and soon Zach could hear it getting more and more excited by the prospect of catching him, with its low labored grunts.

He gave up on trying to force open one of the doors and took his chances into the woods, suitcase in hand. He wasn't totally lost in this forest, he knew which way he had to go, in order to find someone who would be willing to take him in, but as he ran he knew his earlier fear of there being more Deadmin inside of the dense foliage was right. He couldn't see them straight away, but he could definitely smell the scent of rot now that he was farther away from the river.

He stopped to take a breath, hiding behind a tree, his hand placed on the rough bark to steady himself. He wasn't alone, but the Deadmin that would've chased after him didn't see him thankfully. Sight was one of the main things they relied on when hunting, something he'd learned in his time growing up in Blackwell.

Zach peeked around the tree he was hiding, and regrettably locked eyes with a Deamin, this one dressed in a muddy yellow looking suit, that encased its body except for the head. It looked shiny, like plastic or rubber, and Zach knew if it came down to it, he wouldn't be able to bite through it if it got its hands on him. He ran some more, trying to break its eyesight of him through the trees.

As he ran, he tripped over an unsuspecting rock in the trail, tumbling forward in the dirt. He stumbled up and froze in his spot when he and a Deadmin spotted each other a few steps away from where he had fallen. It lunged forward, this one not being quite as old and broken as the others in its joints.

Zach winced, closing his eyes for the inevitable impact, waiting for the clawed fingers to scratch and tear at him; but they never came. The Deadmin instead found itself impaled through the torso with long, thick claws, three to be exact. Zach opened his eyes to see someone had saved him in the knick of time. A Badger in dusty overalls flung the offending creature away, off his claws and into the dirt. Though he didn't stand as tall as the Deadmin, only coming up to his hip, the badger managed to stretch his arm to hurt the creature where it really mattered. It still moved, but now partially ripped in half, it crawled away into some of the bushes to escape.

Zach looked up at the Badger, with a look of gratitude. "Thank God, I made it." He said, finally being able to move off the ground. He stood on shaky legs, his green cardigan now dusty from the dirt he trekked on his way down. "Thank you, Fenry."

The Badger, Fenry, nodded at him. "You're welcome," He said, in a deep gruff voice. "now, come on. It's not safe out here. We should head home soon before more of 'em come." He walked away, back from the direction he came. Zach followed behind him, wanting to ask what was happening, but he realized that was a very dumb question.

Deadmin broke in, that's what happened idiot, he thought to himself. As he followed Fenry, another question occurred, one far more pressing. "Is the town...okay?" He asked, in a small voice. Is Peter okay?

Fenry looked back at him, as they walked through the woods. "Don't know. Haven't been down to check, yet." He answered. "Some welcome party, huh?"

"Tell me about it..." Zach muttered. His step faltered after he realized something else that soured his mood just a bit more, along with the encroaching danger of Deadmin. He'd left his suitcase behind. He groaned quietly, now more annoyed with the day, then scared.


	3. 3

Umbra Aesthen is a pretty busy mayor, for someone who oversees a small fishing town. That morning he had been awake for hours before the sun had risen, making preparations out of town with a few of his newly met "associates". He stood on the outskirts of town in a nicely pressed black suit, backed by the large forest that he journeyed through to make it to the one place his associate decided to meet.

It was fairly easy to get to this clearing past the woods, many of the Beastfolk he passed on the way feared Wolves, and left him unbothered as he waved good morning to the early stragglers; probably headed for the salt mines.

He yawned wide, his large fanged teeth showing for just a moment, as he looked around once more for any sign of a Beast walking through the treeline to meet with him. He scratched his cheek, ruffling the dark fur a bit as he dug around in his pocket for a watch just to check the time. It was only an hour before 10, meaning he had little time to get back or else he'd be late to the Town meeting he had scheduled for this morning.

He tapped his foot impatiently, slowly becoming annoyed with how late they were being

He heard the rustle of leaves in the distance, and not from the wind this time. His head swiveled in the direction of the sound, and he spotted a Cat woman in a cotton pencil skirt and blazer make her way through the bushes and trees. She brushed off the leaves sticking to her ginger fur, as she began to apologize.

"Sorry for being so late, there were a few complications at the asylum that I...had to take care of, before I could leave the grounds properly." She said, walking over to Umbra.

He smiled, his lips in a thin line, as he welcomed her. "Well, I'm sure it won't happen again. Lateness isn't a very attractive trait."

"Before we get to the topic at hand, I want to ask you something." The Cat woman took a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket, and handed it to him. It was ripped and torn, and looked as if it had survived a blaze. The edges of it were scorched black, and the parchment felt brittle in his hand. He couldn't read what it wrote, the ink was smudged beyond recognition, but it was so clearly originally a letter. "Someone has been sending letters out of the asylum. You wouldn't happen to know who would be doing that, would you?" She placed a hand on her hip.

"Hm...no I wouldn't. Oakwell Asylum doesn't have a letter embargo in place last I checked." He joked. "You're the owner, Miss Oakwell. Shouldn't you be paying attention to what your patients and staff are getting up to?"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Well obviously I can't know everything that happens in the Asylum-"

"I know everything that happens in my little fishing town, Miss Oakwell." Umbra interrupted. "I should think finding out what happens in your one mansion should be simple enough." 

Oakwell blushed embarrassed. "M-moving on, what else does the town need? Last month you asked for a number of things that were...hard to procure. What does a fishing town need with man made objects?"

Umbra put a hand to his chin, thinking."Oh you mean aside from the rotted corpses that threaten to break free any day now?" He asked, with a raise of his brow. "I plan on keeping those things at bay for as long as I can, but tin and iron can be pretty hard to come by in town; we're miles away from any place that would sell it...or any place that's still standing during all of this."

Oakwell's head tipped to the side slightly as she looked at him. "I suppose that's true...The Human ruin a few miles from the Asylum is starting to run bare though, I'm afraid."

"Nonsense."

Oakwell smiled, "Oh but I'm being very serious. It might run out at any moment, but I'm sure more would appear if you paid me handsomely for it." Umbra knew she'd ask for something else, Oakwell was a greedy woman.

He sighed, "How much money does the asylum want for the month?" He asked, taking out his ledger.

"Oh no, I don't want money this time. I'm completely bursting at the seams with paper as we speak." She said, taking something else out of her pocket. A picture it seemed. "Remember earlier when I asked you if you knew who was writing those letters? It was a test, one you seemed to have passed...for now."

Umbra took the picture, it seemed to be a faded piece of paper, weathered with age and not fire. It showed a family of Rabbit beast, two with white fur posing in front of an old Kodak camera. The black and white photo showed a woman and two young boys, a gentle hand on each of their shoulders, as they all smiled. All, except for one, who seemed to be frowning slightly as he looked onward. His family had light colored fur, and tufts of hair on their head, while he...or was it a she? Umbra couldn't tell, their face was adrodygenous, and their hair was combed back, reaching past their shoulders almost. Their fur was a dark color, seemingly brown in the photo, though the monochrome picture didn't tell him much.

Umbra recognized these three Rabbit Beast. They were the Niveus', the ones who ran what the locals had been calling the "best place to eat in Blackwell". He had been to Migsby's Burrow only once before, and it was to host a banquet for the mining director and his men.

He wasn't all that well acquainted with Migsby and Peter Niveus, though he knew of them, and what they did for a living. The third character however...

"What do you want with the Niveus'? As far as I'm aware, they're a harmless diner in town." Umbra told Oakwell, handing the photo back.

She sighed, shaking her head, "It's not about them. I saw how you looked at the picture, you must not recognize all of them...namely, the brown furred one."

"And what of it?"

"He's a patient at my Asylum. He's...an interesting character, and far too troublesome for his own good. I suspect he's been sending these letters out secretly to someone in town, and seeing as you 'know everything that goes on there'-"

"You want me to find out if anyone's been getting secret letters lately? Well...that sounds simple enough, but what's so bad about these letters? I was only joking about the letter embargo." Umbra told her.

She tucked the photo back safely into her jacket pocket alongside the burnt letter. "Don't worry about it, it's just my own personal business. I not only want you to find out who's sending these letters," She told him. "I want you to keep an eye on the Niveus family, as you called them. I have reason to believe they're the ones getting them."

He chuckled lightly, "Ah so he's spilling secrets you don't want getting out."

"Like I said. Don't worry about it, just get it done."

Umbra nodded, checking his pocket watch. It was almost 10, which meant it was time for him to return back to town. He'd be a little late, but he could excuse it by having some last minute paperwork to fill out in the office or something when he arrived.

"Well then, I guess this concedes our meeting. It was nice to see you, Miss Oakwell." He said, bowing his head at her.

She bowed hers, "Likewise, Aesthen. Remember the deal. I'll have more of your precious scrap metal by next week, and you-"

He hushed her suddenly,holding a hand up, his ear swiveling to the treeline behind him. Umbra turned his head back, his eyes dutifully scanning the dark shadows of the tree branches and bushes for any kind of movement. Oakwell was put on edge, her hackles raising slightly as she looked about nervously.

"W-what...?" She asked nervously. His sudden change in demeanor was off putting to her..

Far past the treeline, a low wheezy moan could be heard, barely a whisper above the wind. Oakwell couldn't hear it, but Umbra could, and what soon followed afterwards was the slight scent of rot. A figure shambled forward, taller than both of them by a few feet, standing on two legs. A hairless arm half decayed outstretched itself into the light, and it was then that Oakwell saw what Umbra had seen finally.

"Christ, they're here." Oakwell hissed in a terrified whisper. She backed away from Umbra slowly, as another soon began to follow its partner to where the two Beasts stood in the clearing. 

Now that they were closer, the scent of rot was there, but it wasn't as strong as it normally was to Umbra at least. He wondered briefly why he couldn't have scented them earlier, but decided he didn't have time to answer his own questions.

"It doesn't seem like we'll be making it to our respective places anytime soon..." Umbra muttered, his claws unsheathing and glinting in the sunlight. "I'm going back into town, you can follow me, unless you think you can make it back to that Asylum of yours all on your own?"

Umbra could tell Oakwell had made up her mind in following close behind him just from her eyes. Truly, he was a very busy mayor, especially that morning.


	4. 4

The diner was quiet, the shutters to the windows closed and barricaded with a few of the chairs. Unlike most buildings, Migsby’s Burrow was just that, a small little rabbit burrow built out of clay and dirt, with some brick to reinforce the walls here and there. It was situated on the side of a hill, overlooking a slightly high slope downward onto a dusty trail. 

Allen had spotted the Deadmin right on the trail, and it made tired movements up the hill slowly toward him before he had burst back into the burrow to tell everyone about their new visitor. 

The patrons of the diner were huddled away from the door, some hiding behind the counter, a few huddled in the back of the kitchen area. Migsby sat on the counter with a large two barrel shotgun in hand, her eyes trained on the door. 

Peter stood behind the counter next to her, wondering how many there were outside. Shadows that loomed over the small burrow could be seen passing by the shuttered windows every so often, and if you listened closely you could hear the low guttural moans the Deadmin made passively. 

“W-what do we do?” Peter asked his mother quietly, nudging her arm a little. 

“We sit tight and...wait for them to leave.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “There ain’t too many of us here with claws and fangs, so...going out there now to fight ‘em off is suicide.” 

She was right about that. Peter remembered Dylan the Warthog who had come in earlier that morning for breakfast. He left a long while before any of them knew about the Deadmin. If anyone in the diner could’ve potentially driven off the decayed monsters, it was him. But...seeing as he hasn’t come back...I doubt he even made it to the mines. Peter shook his head, not wanting to dwell on such a dark thought. 

More and more shadows passed by the windows, and soon the low moans weren’t so quiet anymore. It seemed as if they were surrounded now. 

“I don’t think they’re going anytime soon, Ma.” Peter said warily. “Someone should-”

“Nobody is going anywhere.” Allen grabbed his arm roughly, looking at him with fiery determination. “Not me, not you, nobody. Besides, if we leave, where do we go? The whole town’s probably swarming with them!” 

Peter tried to think, but he had to admit Allen was right. Leaving really wouldn’t be safe.

“Staying here...just seems useless though!” Peter yanked his arm out of Allen’s grasp. “I’m gonna think of somethin’. If we can get these things out of town, we can buy ourselves some time to figure out how they even got here.” 

Migsby swiveled around on the counter, “It ain’t safe, Peter. Those things would rip you to shreds ‘afore you could even break the treeline.” She scolded him. “We’re staying put, and that’s final.” 

Peter sighed, folding his arms across the countertop, and placing his head down. He tried to come up with some plan for how they could possibly find themselves out of this situation, but the low moans and the high tension from the rest of the patrons wasn’t doing him any favors for thinking. 

“Why won’t they just hit the road, already?” Allen muttered, and a few of the patrons agreed with him, quietly voicing their confusion. 

“M-maybe they can smell us…?” One Rabbit woman asked, nervously. 

“Nah, Deadmin cain’t smell. I heard all they’s got is their eyes left.” A burly Hare man answered. The customers mumbled amongst themselves in small voices, while Peter still tried to think of something, anything to get them out of this situation. 

“Wait.” He picked his head up from the counter suddenly. Allen and Migsby both looked at him, surprised. 

“What is it now, boy?” Allen asked, annoyed. 

Migsby soon scolded him before he even said anything. “Don’t you go getting any bright ideas.”

“Ma, he’s right, all they have is their eyes. If we can catch their eye with something far off, they’ll follow it like moths to a flame!” Peter’s small tail flicked in excitement as his idea began to form. 

“We don’t have anything that could distract them though.” Allen hissed at him, glaring. 

“We do!” He looked at Migsby. “I found this weird looking rocket thing from one of those ruins-”

“You’ve been going to the ruins again?” His mother looked about ready to scold him again. 

“Yeah I have, that's not the point though! I found it in the ruins. It’s pretty big, seeing as it’s Deadmin made, but it looks like a big ol’ sparkler!” 

A small, inquisitive voice spoke up from behind them. It was a small, rabbit woman with ashen fur and big round glasses. “I-i’ve read about those. They’re called ‘fireworks’ actually. We invented them after they did, the old Deadmin I mean…” She explained. “If...if you really have one of those, then it’d be perfect for drawing their attention...they can fly high into the sky for miles. All you’d need is to light the fuse.” 

Peter smirked, nudging his mother’s arm cordially. “Ha! See? It could work! We even have a few matches that could do the trick.” 

Migsby sighed, rubbing a hand down her face, tired. “Where would you even light something light that up?” She asked him. “Every exit is barricaded.”

“Except for the ones upstairs.” he pointed out. He was talking about the one small window he had that was situated in his room next to his bed. “If I remember correctly, the sparkler is just small enough to fit through that darn window of mine. If I light it, and set it at a certain angle it’ll fly high over the trees and definitely get their attention away from here!” 

The Ashen rabbit grabbed Migsby’s arm desperately. “If there’s any way we can escape this place with those things distracted, we should take it. They may not be able to see but...I’ve heard they eventually claw their way through doors and walls if they knock into them too much. This place might not hold for very long if they all decide they want to get past the burrow.” She explained. 

Migsby closed her eyes tightly for a moment, and then opened them having thought it over. “Fine! We’re gonna try Peter’s idea.” He punched the air happily. “If it works, we’ll escape out the back, and make our way to the town’s bunker.” 

“W-what if there’s some along the way?” One nervous patron asked. “If we all go, they’ll definitely swarm us, and then what?” 

“They can’t all go, Miggs.” Allen told her quietly. “If the plan works, me and Peter, and maybe a few others will head back into town through the back, while rest ‘o you stay put here till we get back.” 

“The bunker’s the only safe place in town, though!” Migsby spoke up. “Where else are you going to go, if not there?”

Allen thought for a moment, “Well...the sheriff's office does have a little secret we don’t really tell the townsfolk, but there’s a little armory hidden in the basement of the building. And I know where Sheriff Mills keeps the key.” He had a proud smile on his face, though it was small. “If we get there, we can ward off enough of them to get the rest of you into that bunker.” 

Migsby still looked unconvinced of the plan, but once Allen had finished speaking, Peter ran off to retrieve the firework he had hidden days prior in his room. Her eyes followed him as he ran up the rickety stairs, hurriedly. She looked back at Allen, a glint in her eye. 

“If this works...You two better make it back here, ya hear?” She told him. He patted her hand lightly.

“Don’t you worry. Me and Pete will be back before you know it, and not a tuft of fur will be misplaced on his head at all.” He smiled at her. 

Peter was rummaging around his room for the firework he had hidden, and finally found it rolled up in some fishing parchment he had left over. It was red with white stripes that were slowly fading away with age, and a pointed nose. He dragged the large firework out of the wrapping, and found that the fuse was still there and unlit. He laughed, gratefully, setting the large firework against the wall. It was almost as tall as he was, but that wasn’t by a lot, as Rabbit Beast were pretty small critters. 

He went over to his windowsill, and unlocked it, positioning the nose of the rocket outside of the window and letting the tail rest on his dresser. He could hear the almost curious groans of the Deadmin below, as they probably tried their best to swivel their eyes upward. He had never known a Deadmin to look up physically with its head before, so he assumed they just couldn’t do that for whatever reason. 

Gotta hurry...before they begin knocking into this side of the building trying to get at it… He thought, as he fumbled around in his overall pockets for some spare matches. He found a pack with a few still left unstruck. 

Striking one match, he went over to the fuse and slowly held it over the dry twine. Almost instantly, it lit up and a loud hiss rang throughout his room, before it became a loud, tinny whine and the rocket flew out the window faster than he could blink. 

It arched across the sky in a large, red line leaving gold and white sparkles in its trail. Peter looked out the window then and saw the Deadmin shambling away from the burrow, and towards the new and shiny distraction. Right before it hit the tree line, the firework exploded with a disruptive bang, scattering a few of the birds in the surrounding trees. 

With a large grin, he bolted down the stairs, to tell the rest of the patrons about how the plan had worked. 

“Good news everyone! They’re headed straight into the woods now!” He told them all, and happy little cheers rumbled through the small diner just then. “They’re all going down the hill to where I fired off the sparkler, so we should hurry now and make our way into town.”

“Did it go very far?” Migsby asked him. 

Peter’s grin faltered a bit, “W-well...not quite as far as I imagined, but far enough that I doubt they’ll make their way back here again soon. It’ll take them some time to go where the sparkler ended up, and even longer to make their way back.” He told her. “But that’s plenty of time to make it to the Sheriff's office!”

“Especially if it’s just a few of us. Who else wants to go to the armory with us?” Allen looked to the patrons. The small ashen Rabbit from before spoke up, her voice small. 

“I-i’ll go...I may not look like much but, I do know how to work a gun.” She told them. The burly looking Hare, with bushy light brown fur, stood up as well. 

“I’ll go along wit’ ya as well. Four’s a crowd, and I reckon Deadmin don’t like those.” He said, chuckling lightly. 

Peter grinned, “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s hit the trail!”


	5. 5

Fenry’s home was small, and looked as if it was almost going to cave in by the way the roof seemed to sag down when you walked inside. It was a boat house, shambly put together out of wood, and dried clay here and there. Holding it all together were scrap metal parts from the ruins a few miles from where the Badger lived. It was situated right on the edge of the river, a perfect place to fish.

Zach had lived in this stitched together mess since he was a child, and all the way up until he finally moved away to pursue his dreams of getting a doctorate. The floorboards were creaky as he gingerly stepped into the tiny little foyer room Fenry used to lounge in. There was an old recliner chair with the stuffing leaking out in the corner; tackle and bait were messily crammed on top of the few dressers and drawers scattered about the place. A table and chairs were pushed into the corner for meal time. You couldn’t say the place wasn’t lived in, that was for certain.

The room had a familiar, yet very unpleasant smell of fish and wood. Tiredly sitting down, Zach leaned back into a seat, finally giving himself sometime to breathe. Fenry’s shack wasn’t very far away, but it took far longer than it normally would have, what with them having to evade and run from Deadmin stalking the forest. 

It was quiet for the most part, but somewhere in the distance, Zach heard a slight “Pop” noise, that echoed slightly through the forest. His ear twitched in the direction of the door. What the hell was that…? A sparkler? He decided to ignore it for now, it sounded pretty far away from the echo so whatever it was wouldn’t bother them. 

Fenry had gone into the back of the shack, where even more garbage and odd knick-knacks were kept, rummaging around quite noisily for something. “What are you looking for? A gun I hope.” Zach asked him, leaning his head back. 

“Somethin’ to help us get back into town with, that’s what.” Fenry answered. He poked his big, dark furred head through the door frame looking down at Zach. “We won’t be staying for very long, so don't get comfortable.” He ducked his head back, and continued scrounging around in the back. 

Zach stood up from the seat, following him. “Well...what’s it look like? It sounds like you’ve lost it...whatever it is.” The backroom was even more of a mess than the front. Buckets and pans, and other utensils that Zach knew Fenry used for cooking. Bottles and books also filled a few of the shelves on the walls, some half open, others dusty and cracked at the spine. “I told ya we should’ve cleaned this place every once in a while…” He muttered, looking at the mess with a scrunched up nose. 

Fenry was bent down, looking through some floor cabinets. He dismissively waved a clawed paw at Zach. “Bah, I’m an old Beast, son. Cleanin’ takes a lot out of me, you know that.” He seemed to have finally found what he was looking for, however, as he stood up with a large, oblong-shaped glass bottle. It was huge, and the contents inside moved like murky, gross water. A cork stop was filling the mouth of the bottle, and Fenry held it up for Zach to see. 

The Badger took the stopper off, and Zach immediately slapped a paw over his nose, a foul stench filling the air. It aslo set him on edge, as it was the same stench that wafted off the Deadmin. The scent of death.

“Where the hell did you get something so disgusting?!” Zach asked him, eyeing the bottle warily. Even though there weren’t any Deadmin surrounding them, just the smell was enough to make his fur raise in anxiety along his arms. 

Fenry chuckled, “It’s rot in a bottle. I’ve been working on this ever since you left for that school.” He said. “Deadmin cain’t hear, but they can smell...somethin’ a lot of Beasts don’t know about.” 

Fenry placed the stopper back on the bottle, momentarily stopping the scent from filling the room. Zach’s anxiety quelled just a bit. He pointed at the bottle, confused. 

“So how’s that going to get us into town?” He asked. “D-don’t tell me we’ve gotta douse ourselves in that concoction you’ve cooked up?” The thought of having any of that white, murky liquid on him made him shiver in disgust, he reviled the idea. 

Fenry shook his head, going over to a shelf with one of the broken down books. He took one down, a big large leather bound one, with a dusty maroon cover. Zach held it in his arms, it was so large. He flipped it open turning the pages, with Fenry speeding it along by showing him to the correct part. 

It seemed to be a journal detailing all sorts of things about Deadmin. How they walked, why they walked the way they did, what that horrid smell coming from them was called. The page Fenry pointed to was midway through the book, seemingly the latest edition. It showed a detailed picture of a decayed creature on two legs following what appeared to be-

“Footprints?” Zach muttered. 

“They smell the tracks that other creatures leave behind for some reason, I’ve been testin’ ‘em for a while now with that tackle and bait in the front,” Fenry explained to him, nodding. “If you throw a line out in their path with a lure on it, they’ll follow it but if it breaks their line of sight, they’ll lose interest in it...but not when that thing on the lure can leave prints behind.” He tapped the page with a claw. “If you throw a fish out, and reel it into where they can’t see they’ll still find the fish, ‘cause they can smell the trail it left behind. They cain’t smell the trail of a cotton lure though, because it leaves none.” 

Zach was impressed with Fenry’s research, and all the time he’d taken throughout the months he was gone to compile this one book. “Okay...but what does this have to do with the rot you made?” Zach asked, curiously. 

“Easy. We’re gonna put some of this on our shoes and walk clean out o’ this place.” Fenry smirked, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf. Zach looked at him incredulously. 

“Are you insane, old man?! They’ll rip us to shreds!” 

“They don’t go for things that smell like themselves, so if we leave tracks that smell like Deadmin, they won’t chase after us, even if we don’t look like Deadmin.” He unstoppered the large bottle again, and Zach gagged, his fur bristling. “Come on, just put a little on the sole of your shoes, and we can head into town.” 

Zach sighed, his arms crossed over his chest tightly. “Fine, let’s just...get this over with as soon as possible so we can-” 

A low, but close moan bellowed out from outside of the shack. The two Beasts quieted down quickly, Fenry’s claws seeming longer already, and Zach’s fur bristling up in discomfort. The smell of rot was everywhere, so neither had noticed how close a Deadmin had been to their little shack. All they had to go off of was the chilling sound they were known to make. 

Fenry tipped the bottle and let some of the disgusting water coat his boots, and passed the bottle to Zach who did the same. The moans got louder within seconds. 

Zach let out a tiny hiss, while Fenry went to the front room, ripping the door open. “Lord.” He whispered quietly. There was a slowly incoming horde of Deadmin, all making their way in the direction of the shack. He had no idea why all of the Deadmin were making their way to his home, but he didn’t care. He grabbed Zach’s arm suddenly, and ran out of the shack, into the front yard. 

The little shack sat right on the edge of the river, and swimming wasn’t an option. Deadmin were coming from the woods surrounding them, but the trail that snaked all the way throughout Blackwell was a little clear of them. The Deadmin spotted them as they stood out in the open, of course, and Zach had a terrified hand balled in the back of Fenry’s shirt. 

“Stay still,” Fenry instructed him. And so they did, watching the Deadmin approach just barely, before shambling on past them. Zach’s eyes widened with fear as he locked eyes with the foggy white iris of one who wore a tattered satin dress, holes and rips from branches obvious in some places. Once it passed by them, he let out a breathy sigh he didn’t know he was holding, and Fenry chuckled content. 

“See? What’d I tell ya? It’s like we’re not even here to them.” He said. Fenry took one step forward and then another, with Zach following close behind him. As they walked on, the Deadmin would approach them slowly, then move past them uninterested.

They slowly made their way onto the trail, quietly as if the Deadmin could hear them and would attack if anything loud were to reach their ears. Along the way, when the trail was opening up to reveal a small clearing, Zach and Fenry spotted a red and white rocket-shaped contraption made from cardboard and paper. 

“What’s this…?” Fenry muttered confused. Zach’s ears perked up in recognition. 

“I think I know what this is...I heard it about an hour ago. It’s some kind of sparkler, I think…” He said. He looked back at where they had come, relaxing a bit now that they were no longer surrounded by the decaying monsters. “It...looks a little big to be a sparkler though, don’t you think?” 

Fenry shrugged, kicking it out of the path. “It’s probably something that was made by the Old Deadmin. Who cares, we’re nearing the burrow.” Fenry continued onward. “There might be Beasts inside, maybe Migsby’s still in there...hopefully.” 

Zach hoped there were Beasts there as well, namely one homely looking Rabbit he hadn’t seen in months. They neared Migsby’s Burrow, and Zach noticed as they approached that the scent of rot that was following them was fainter now. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, considering rot was the only reason they had made it this far. 

The two of them walked up the hill that led to the rickety old door to the Burrow. The windows were shuttered, which meant that whoever was inside definitely knew about the threat outside. Fenry raised a clawed paw, and knocked on the wood. “Hey, is anyone in there?” He called out. “Migsby if you’re in there, it’s me. Fenry. I brought Zach along, too.” 

They could hear the shuffle and scratches of wood on wood as chairs and tables were swiftly moved aside. The door creaked open, and a hand yanked Fenry inside. Zach followed in quickly, before the door was shut, and there to greet them was Allen Brigwell. And Migsby Niveus, who had a 2 gauge shotgun pointed at the two of them, threateningly. 

“You had a run-in with those things, I can smell it on both of ya.” She said. Fenry raised a hand, and Zach stood behind him. 

“We didn’t get hurt by any of ‘em, don’t worry. The smells ‘cause of something else.” He explained. “Look, there’s not a scratch on either of us at all. ‘Least not on Zach here. His jacket’s just a little muddy is all.” 

She relaxed a bit, seemingly convinced that they weren’t injured or scratched by one of the Deadmin. She sighed, and then a welcoming smile graced her face as she looked at Zach. 

“Welcome home.”


	6. 6

Umbra’s body was tired from the spontaneous workout he had thrust upon it with the threat of the Deadmin looming over them suddenly. Bringing down one Deadmin was easy enough, once you got your claws in their rotted heads that is, but the real trick came in not getting scratched by one. 

As he and Oakwell rested for a second in a small clearing in the woods, he huffed annoyed looking over at yet another Deadmin slowly making its way towards them. It took a few steps before it’s outstretched arm was in reach of him, and Umbra grabbed it by its decayed limb, before sinking his other clawed paw into its head and pushing down sharply. The creature's arm came off easily at the shoulder, and the Deadmin let out an almost pained moan, falling backward. He threw the arm away on the ground, grimacing at the once pristine cuffs of his suit jacket. 

“We’re almost at Town hall.” he told Oakwell, walking ahead again. “Nice to have so much help getting back home, by the way.” He smirked at her. 

Oakwell shook her head, her hackles raised. “I don’t know how you can stand to touch those things.” She said, following him. 

“Is this your first time ever seeing them up close?” He asked. “I assure you, they get aggressively more grotesque as the days go by.” 

“That’s not reassuring at all!” She slapped a hand over her mouth, before looking around. 

The Wolf waved a hand dismissively back at her. “Don’t worry, they’re deaf. They can’t hear a thing in the world, it seems. They rely more on sight than anything.” Umbra explained to her. 

Oakwell sighed, fishing around in her jacket pocket for the pack of cigarettes she kept on her. “And for the record, no, this isn’t my first time seeing them, I just...we don’t see them very often up on the hill.” She lit one, putting it between her lips. “The Asylum is a well protected place, away from any Humans or...whatever those creatures are called.” 

“The locals call them ‘Deadmin’. Though I presume it’s a consequence of their accent.” Umbra hummed. They were making swift progress to their destination, and soon the trail was opening up again, and the two of them could see the well defined backdoor of Town hall.There weren’t any Deadmin milling about, so it was a clear shot to the door. 

“What do we need from here anyways…? Besides shelter, I mean.” Oakwell asked. They reached the backdoor, and Umbra got the skeleton key he hid in his pocket that opened all the doors in Town Hall. Contrary to its name, it wasn’t shaped like a skeleton. It was a simple, brass colored key, gothic in design at the handle, that opened access to lots of locks. A hand around the tin doorknob, he twisted it and entered the room, the lights still off from when the secretary had blown them out for the night.

They were in a hallway that stretched for a bit onwards into some smaller rooms and offices for the scant few political workers in Blackwell. Most of them foreigners to the small community from other places, unfamiliar with the way of life in the bayou. 

“Do you think anyone’s even in here?” Oakwell spoke up, quietly from his side. “It’s dark in here, the workers haven’t lit the lamps yet.” 

Umbra quietly looked around, not hearing anything around them but their own soft breathing. “My secretary might be here. He normally arrives before I do to set everything up.” In fact, he probably is here...there was supposed to be a meeting after all. “Come on, he might be in the front.” 

They walked down the hall, turning a few corners before making it to two slightly larger oakwood doors. As Umbra opened them, and walked through the frame, he called out to his secretary hoping he’d be somewhere in the darkness. 

“Dorian?” He called. “Are you in here? Turn the lights on, will you, it’s terribly dark and I’m tired of bumping into walls every second.” 

“M-mayor….?” A small voice whispered in the dark. “Oh thank goodness it’s you! I’m glad to see someone made it into work today.” The sound of scurrying feet could be heard as soon a tiny switch was flicked on the wall, and the gas lamps in the room flared to life, a slight hiss sounding next to Umbra’s ear. He reached up, and fiddled with the tin screw on the gas lamp, before it flared to life with a tiny orange flame, lighting the gloomy office room. 

Now that there was some modicum of light, the front entrance of the Town Hall was in plain view. Dorian, the Mouse secretary with neatly brushed brown fur and a cardigan jacket, stood by his stationary desk where checks in people visiting for Meetings and business. Chairs and tables had been pushed hurriedly against the impressive oakwood doors that made the entrance to Town Hall. “I see you’ve been busy while I was late to work.” Umbra chuckled, looking at the messily put together barricade. 

Dorian smiled at him, “Well I had to keep the office nice and tidy even in the midst of all of...this.” The little Mouse gestured vaguely. He sighed, clasping his hands together in a little ball. “I’m just so glad you’re okay, Mayor. I don’t know what I’d do if you ended up hurt by those awful monsters.” 

“Yes, yes, your Mayor is fine and in good health. What do we do next, though?” Oakwell butted into the conversation, her arms crossed in front of her. 

Dorian looked at her, as if he just noticed she was in the room. “Oh. I see we have a visitor at the office. Are you scheduled to meet with Mayor Aesthen?” he asked her, to which she scowled at. 

Umbra snorted, “No she’s not, Dorian. But it’s fine, I’ve seen her already. We walked together on the way here, and had our meeting while we traveled.” 

Dorian’s eyes sparkled with wonder, “Oh how gracious of you, Mayor! To see some odd woman without even having her check in first! You should feel very thankful, Miss.” Oakwell rolled her eyes at him. 

Umbra cleared his throat, getting their attention again. “Well, firstly we must see what the situation is like in the rest of the town. There are no speakers set up to heavily announce something, so we’ll have to find another way of getting into contact with people.” He went over to Dorian's desk. “Did you happen to see anyone at all when you first arrived at the office?” 

Dorian’s head cocked to the side, curiously. “Hm...well, I think I saw a couple of people heading towards that burrow on the little hill, probably to eat before heading to work or the Mines.” He answered. 

Umbra hummed, concerned. “I walked past a few of the Miners this morning as well. The ones who live almost on the outskirts of town…” Dorian looked at him with confused, brown eyes. 

“Why were you so far away from the office this morning, Mayor?” He asked. “I thought your home was here in town?”

Umbra laughed, “Why, to meet with Miss Oakwell here, of course. I intended to visit her nice asylum up on that steep hill outside of town, and make my way back in time for the town meeting...though I suppose I ran a little late due to our unwanted out of towners.” 

Dorian nodded, smiling cordially. “Ah, of course, how noble!” His eyebrows creased into a frown. “But wait...if you saw the Miners going to work so early...they might’ve been ambushed by Deadmin!” 

Umbra’s soft smile soon left his face as the growing concern for what that could entail set in. Oakwell looked to the barricaded doors of the entrance, a chill racing up her spine. 

“If they really did get ambushed at the mines then...the forest would be teeming with more than just Deadmin.” She muttered. 

“Let’s hope it never gets to that point. The first thing we must do is find the source of this problem...There must be a breach in the gate that was protecting us from this very problem.” Umbra said. “There aren’t a lot of beasts who would be very helpful in getting rid of Deadmin, unfortunately. At least not in town.”

They were all quiet for a moment, before Dorian’s ears twitched slightly. “I can’t think of anything right away, but it might do well to check on the townsfolk, at least. Some of them may need assistance.”


End file.
